


In Each Other's Pockets

by thaliachaunacy (thalialunacy)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-12
Updated: 2007-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thaliachaunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one with the kryptonite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Each Other's Pockets

**Author's Note:**

> [AUTHOR'S OH SO IMPORTANT NOTES: This here is an AU (epilogue? what epilogue?) crack-ish!fic with pr0n written for [Shocolate](http://shocolate.livejournal.com). BOYS ARE GONNA GO AT IT, MKAY? I'm pretty sure I used some glaring Americanisms (did I mention crack!fic?), too, although the spell check didn't reject 'daffiest', much to my delight. Mm, there's also some politics; apologies if they offend anyone. Oh, and I apologize for Ron's truly awful joke. I couldn't not. Thanks to [**mongoluehring**](http://mongoluehring.livejournal.com) for one of the lines. And thanks to [**elucreh**](http://elucreh.livejournal.com) and [**modestyrabnott**](http://modestyrabnott.livejournal.com) for ~~tackling my excessive love of the comma~~ the beta jobs. ♥ GAME ON!

"I'm home!" Ron slammed the door shut and threw his outer robes on the back of the big chair in the main room of the flat he and Harry shared. "Supper on yet?"

"Shut it, you!" came the shout from the study, their lofty word for the second bedroom. "Do I look barefoot and pregnant?" Harry appeared in the hallway.

"What?" Ron raised an eyebrow.

"Never mind, Muggle saying." Harry planted a kiss on his mate in passing. "Muggles say the daffiest things." Then he wandered off towards the kitchen.

Ron grinned. Looked like supper would be coming soon, after all. "Too right," he agreed, loosening the clasp on his work robes as he walked towards the bedroom, his voice echoing through the modest flat. "That and they'll believe anything except what's in front of them."

Waving his wand casually around the stove, Harry called back, "What d'you mean?"

"Well, for one—hello—there's still an argument over evolution?" Ron walked into the kitchen, wriggling into a jumper and talking at the same time. "That's ridiculous."

Harry stopped stirring, surprised. "How'd you know about that?"

"Oi, just because I'm pureblood doesn't mean I'm daft. We know the basics, same as you lot." He grabbed Harry round the waist and inhaled the scent of the bubbling pots on the stove. "Please say that's stroganoff."

"It is."

"Thank Merlin." He leaned down to open the fridge and hooked out two bottles, then offered one to Harry. "Beer for the chef?"

"Sure." Ron popped the tops and handed one off before continuing on his previous topic. "And how have they not fixed this global warming thing yet, as well? Wizards are purely self-sufficient and sustaining."

"Well, we have a bit of help with that. Muggles can't Apparate, remember? No Portkeys?"

"Oh yeah." Ron took a drink, thinking. "But still, they are more than a bit thick if they don't realize Robin Williams is a werewolf."

Harry snorted and looked over his shoulder with both eyebrows raised. "Yeah, right."

"Really!" Ron protested, swinging himself up onto the countertop, a habit he knew Harry hated. Said it distracted him from cooking properly. Well, bang on, was the way Ron thought of it, and he did it as often as possible. "No human—wizard or Muggle—would have that much hair."

Harry chuckled outright. "Okay, okay, you might have a point there."

Ron took a swig of beer, enjoying the idea of besmirching Muggles while drinking a hefewizen. "Oh, and Madonna is a vampire."

"Wait, wait, wait—" Harry protested. He waved his wand one last time at the food before summoning plates and spooning out servings. "...not that I doubt that for one second, but I thought wizards always kept hidden unless absolutely necessary?"

"Well, yeah, most of us," Ron answered as they took their usual chairs, elbow to elbow at the small square table. "But one Ministry can't control everyone all the time, mate. And more often than not, it works out alright. I mean, half the time, Muggles think our oddities are saviors. Jesus, Saint Nicholas, Mary bloody Poppins...or uber-beings, like Napoleon, Clark Kent, Annie Oakley—“

“What! Clark Kent?” Harry had stopped with the fork halfway to his mouth, and it now drifted back to the plate, forgotten. “Of course.”

“He's a freak of nature, really, or at least that’s what the Ministry calls him. Not something they can control, right? You know the things he does, flying and seeing through walls and things. Most abnormal chap anyone's ever set eyes on. But he's never mentioned us, made up some cock and bull story, so all’s well that ends well.”

"Brilliant." Harry shook his head and tucked into his food again. "So there are others? Others that couldn't handle staying in the wizarding world and, for some reason or another, live amongst the Muggles?"

"Yup."

He chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "Keith Richards?"

"Oh yeah."

"What about Johnny Depp?"

"You have to ask?"

"Angelina Jolie."

"O' course, although that Pitt guy is definitely a Muggle and we just don't understand the draw."

"I do," Harry said helpfully.

Ron perked up. "Really?"

"It's the puppy eyes. Very soulful."

"That's madness. Brad Pitt does not have soulful eyes."

"Yes, he does. And a fine arse, too."

"Harry!"

Harry snickered around a bite of noodles and Ron reddened slightly. "Well," he informed his mate casually, pushing his empty plate forward and swallowing more beer, "Clark Kent gives magnificent blowjobs."

Harry nearly choked. "What?!"

Ron grinned. "According to Seamus."

Once started, Harry couldn't stop laughing. "Are you serious?"

"Floo him and ask! I once admitted to him I had sort of fancied the guy, and Seamus went on and on about his apparently brilliantly skilled tongue."

"Wait—you fancied Clark Kent?"

"You didn't?"

"Well, he is the Man of Steel."

"Exactly."

"But you don't think that'd be a little...I dunno, intimidating? Too much to live up to?"

"Oh, of course," Ron said pointedly. "Much worse than sleeping with the Savior of the Wizarding World."

Harry's eyes narrowed and he gestured rudely with his fork. "Shut it!"

"You don't have x-ray vision, do you?" Ron taunted.

Harry suddenly grinned. "I know you're wearing baby blue pants."

"Yeah, but that's because—Wait, how _did_ you know that? You were asleep when I got up this morning, lazy lout that you are."

Harry waggled his eyebrows and licked the last remaining bit of sauce off his fork before standing to clear the plates. "Maybe I share some skills with Mr Kent."

Ron was on him before he had time to cast the cleansing spell. "Baby blue goes with my eyes, Mr Potter." He easily lifted Harry up onto the counter and situated himself between his legs.

"Oh?" Harry said rather hoarsely, all too aware of Ron's body pushed intimately into his. It was a familiar dance, and he relished it. "Funny, because when I see them, I'm rarely paying attention to your eyes."

Ron made a sound low in his throat and his lips came down on Harry's like a freight train. Harry, in return, tightened his legs around Ron's hips, brushing Ron's tongue with his own and moving his hands to tug on red hair.

Ron pulled back with a groan. He was already hard. "How do you do that?" he asked breathlessly. "You only have to kiss me and my cock's at attention, like I’m bloody nineteen still and we haven't been fucking for nearly six years."

Harry grinned at him and pushed his own decidedly interested midsection into Ron's. "Dunno. Must be one of my powers."

Ron grunted and kissed him swiftly, his concentration shifted to the fastening on Harry's trousers. "Right. Just don't try anything too tricky while I'm doing this." And he was on his knees in front of Harry's now unencumbered cock, eyeing it like it was a Christmas present.

He grinned devilishly up at his mate. "Is that a pocket full of kryptonite?"

Harry groaned and smacked him upside the head. "Not funny, Ron. Just do it."

"Yes, oh Boy Who lived." And he set to work, his tongue reaching out to lick up one side and down the other, then around and back again. He loved this part, the part where he got to taste Harry like an ice cream cone, and he intended to savour it for a while.

Much to his mate's chagrin. After a bit, Ron could feel Harry's eyes on him, feel Harry trying to move into his mouth, but he didn’t change his course.

"Ron..."

Ron took his lips away and wrapped his hand around Harry's cock instead, wanking him gently while he reached up to steal a kiss. "Yes?"

Harry's breath was hot against Ron's lips. "You're a bloody tease." The hands that were still in Ron's hair tightened rather a lot, and he found himself once again on his knees. "Please."

Never one to leave a man wanting, Ron went at it with gusto. His mouth wrapped around Harry's cock with the ease of long enjoyment, and Harry let out a breath at the always-brilliant sensation. There was nothing else like Ron's mouth, really, in the whole of the wizarding or Muggle worlds, and Harry had sole ownership. This pleased him greatly.

"Brilliant," he muttered, his head tipped back against the cupboards as Ron took him all the way into his throat. "Gah. Fucking brilliant."

Ron grinned around his delicious trophy, and began to concentrate on the head, sucking a low growl out of his mate. His lips and tongue worked Harry's cock thoroughly, licking and sucking and generally having a splendid time. Harry began to subtly thrust into his mouth, a sign, Ron knew, to move on, and he did with alacrity, reaching up one hand to have a go at Harry's lovely balls, to stroke back and forth on that soft skin right behind them.

His cheeks hollowed, he looked up at Harry, and found green eyes glittering down at him. "Go on," Harry managed hoarsely.

Ron's eyes flashed and his exploring hand became a finger pushing into Harry's soft puckered hole, teasingly thrusting in and out while his lips moved up and down on Harry's cock at an urgent pace.

"Oh, fuck yes," slipped out of Harry's mouth, and Ron pushed harder, sucked more deeply, determined to get as much as he could out of his mate.

With a word that sounded something like 'uunnngh,' Harry came swiftly into Ron's throat. Ron rode it out, swallowing and lapping and cleaning and tasting, his hand softly rolling Harry's balls as he came down from the precipice.

Then he stood slowly, grinning and licking his lips. Harry kissed the taste right off his tongue, and Ron groaned, feeling his cock harden even further. "Dammit, you know what that does to me."

"Yeah, well, I think I should give a little something to the man who most definitely gives better head than Clark Kent."

Ron pulled back, bringing Harry with him. "Shut up and turn around."

Harry grinned and did as Ron and Ron's hands demanded, then turned to kiss him over his shoulder. His tongue sought its mate, pushed and pulled, and Ron made a growling noise in his throat. He took Harry's hand in his own and braced them against the counter, spotting kisses over Harry's neck and shoulder while fumbling with clothing and a wand and the necessary charm.

"Love you," he mumbled against Harry's damp, warm skin, and then with a long push, they were one.

Harry let out a low cry, adjusting to Ron's cock. "You too," he said breathlessly after a moment, pushing his hips back to take more of him in.

Ron started to move, and Harry responded with ease. They had this worked out to perfection, they both agreed, but it never hurt to practice. It felt too fucking good not to. Harry loved the way Ron's breath felt on the back of his neck, the way it felt to know he was giving him such tremendous pleasure. Ron liked feeling like he'd unzipped Harry and crawled inside, the one person with intimate knowledge of the most famous man in the world. The most wonderful man in the world, clearly, if he'd not only let Ron bend him over a counter like this, with dirty dishes stacked in the sink, but enjoy it so thoroughly as well.

All these thoughts brought Ron nothing but pleasure, and combined with the indescribable feeling of having his cock inside Harry, he didn't hold out for long. He felt his movements speed up, become erratic, felt Harry urging him on, felt the cold of the counter tile and the warmth of Harry's skin, felt like he was going to explode with love and all—

And with his own graceless exclamation, he did just that, clutching onto Harry like he was going to float out of reach.

As he spiraled back to reality, his lips on Harry's shoulder, his body slack and spent, he felt Harry's hand reach up and back to stroke his hair lightly. "Mmmf, sorry," he mumbled, finding the strength to stand upright and take the pressure off his mate.

Harry turned in his arms and smiled—that smile that meant everything was right with the world. That smile that had been missing for nearly two decades. "S'fine. Thank you."

Ron lazily kissed him, tracing patterns around the inside of his mouth and enjoying the soft hum it provoked. Then he remembered how they'd got there, and looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow. "I still don't know how you knew the colour of my pants."

Harry laughed. "It wasn't exactly difficult, Ron. They showed when you bent over to get the beers out of the fridge."

"You were watching?" Ron raised an eyebrow.

"Of course I was."

"After six years?"

Harry tuffed Ron's hair. "Please don't tell me you don't look at my arse anymore, or I'll positively weep. Then go get some expensive reconstructive charms and an overly lavish broom."

Ron grinned. "Sure I look. And I plan to keep on looking, too, even when it's—you know—saggy and wrinkly with old age, and neither of us can keep our teeth in anymore, let alone bash the bish."

"Sounds lovely."

"I thought so."

And he kissed him, and that was that.


End file.
